The Engine’s Dream

It was in the year of our Lord 1849 when Mr. Thaddeus Blythe unveiled his infernal contraption—a brass and glass monstrosity he so proudly dubbed the Chrono-Scope. A device, he claimed, which did not measure time, but pierced it.

We laughed, as learned men do. Until the night he bade us look.

What visions emerged! Cities blackened with smoke, sky-chariots belching flame, children born of wires and iron. No sun, only pallid light from orbs that hummed with unnatural life. Man himself—half-machine, half-ghost—wandering endless corridors of steel.

“Behold,” Blythe whispered, weeping. “The triumph of Progress.”

And I, dear reader, have not known peace since.